Starting from 1618 of the Ming Dynasty

Chapter 52 The Storm Is Brewing

In the twelfth month of the first year of the Tianqi reign, heavy snow blocked the mountain pass.

Wild Boar Forest, thirty li southeast of Yuncheng County, Yanzhou Prefecture, Shandong Province.

This was a black market converted from a mass grave, a place even ghosts wouldn't frequent on ordinary days. But tonight, several eerie bonfires burned here. The cold wind swirled with snowflakes, emitting a strange, howling sound, like countless wronged souls demanding their lives.

Zhao Changying rode a tall Liaodong warhorse, followed by ten fully loaded wagons. The wheels were wrapped with thick straw ropes to prevent slipping, and the wagon beds were covered tightly with tarpaulins, but the heavy draft revealed the weight of the cargo.

Opposite him stood a group of ragged men with white cloths wrapped around their heads. They carried various weapons—some with rusty broadswords, some with sharpened bamboo poles, and some even with pitchforks. But whatever they held, the way they looked at the ten carts was as if they were looking at naked beauties, revealing a chilling greed and fanaticism.

"Manager Zhao, are all the goods ready?"

The leader, a one-eyed man, stepped forward. He didn't perform the traditional Jianghu (江湖, a term referring to the martial arts world) greeting, but instead held his palm upright in front of his chest—a unique gesture of the Wenxiang Sect. His single eye gleamed with a green light, a strange gleam born from a mixture of long-term hunger and religious fanaticism.

"All done."

Zhao Changying responded coldly, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. The fifty Lu family servants behind him, though dressed in civilian clothes, exuded a chilling aura of discipline that made the refugees opposite them instinctively keep their distance.

"Three thousand catties of pig iron and five hundred shi of aged grain." Zhao Changying pointed behind him. "According to the previous agreement, we want cash, or equivalent gold or antiques. We will not accept paper money or copper coins."

"Don't worry, Mother is merciful, you will all be well taken care of."

The one-eyed man waved his hand, and several gaunt believers carried two boxes up.

The box was opened, and by the firelight, Zhao Changying saw a jumble of gold and silver jewelry, broken silver ingots, and even several gold Buddha statues that were clearly stolen from the Buddhist shrines of wealthy families. Some of them still bore dried bloodstains.

This isn't buying and selling; it's selling stolen goods.

Zhao Changying gestured for the accompanying accountant to come forward and inspect the goods. The accountant was an experienced man and didn't mind the dirt. He picked up a piece of silver, bit it with his teeth, weighed it in his hand, and finally nodded.

"Inspect the goods," Zhao Changying ordered.

The one-eyed man rushed toward the first truck and ripped off the tarpaulin.

"Splash!"

Rows of dark iron bars were exposed to the air. These were "top-quality" wrought iron bars. Although the surface was somewhat rough and even had some rust, in the iron-scarce countryside, they were already a hard currency for forging weapons.

The one-eyed man pulled out an iron bar and struck it hard on the stone, making a crisp "clang".

"Great iron! Hard enough!" The one-eyed man was overjoyed. He turned around and roared at the group of believers, "Brothers! With this batch of iron, we can forge three thousand broadswords! Then we can chop off the heads of those corrupt officials like cutting melons and vegetables!"

"The Eternal Mother! The Vacuum Homeland!"

A group of people roared in low voices, their sounds echoing across the empty snowfield, carrying a chilling madness.

Zhao Changying watched this scene expressionlessly, but the corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

Only the core members of Lu Ji knew what kind of iron it was.

This is "specially supplied iron" that Lu Yan specially commissioned Zhao Tie to extract from the low-quality ore with extremely high sulfur content in the Zhangqiu mining area. This kind of iron has a fatal flaw—it is brittle when cold.

It appears quite hard and sharp when sharpened. However, in winter or under intense impact, it becomes as brittle as glass. Even cutting hardwood with this iron-forged broadsword might cause it to chip; if used to make a musket… it would be a weapon prone to exploding.

As for the five hundred bushels of grain? That was stale grain that had been piling up in Lu's warehouse for three years. Not only was it moldy, but it was also mixed with at least ten percent fine sand and lime powder. Eating it wouldn't kill you, but it would definitely make your legs weak and you wouldn't be able to go to the battlefield at all.

This is Lu Yan's "cutting off the fuel supply" strategy.

"Now that it's been checked, let's call it even." Zhao Changying waved his hand, and the servants packed up the money box and quickly retreated.

He didn't want to stay in this awful place a second longer. The pungent stench of corpses and the frenzied religious atmosphere made even this ruthless killer uncomfortable.

On the way back, the snow fell heavier and heavier.

"Captain, isn't what we're doing... a bit too ruthless?" a trusted servant couldn't help but ask in a low voice. "Selling them this kind of brittle iron, if a fight breaks out, many of these people will probably die."

"die?"

Zhao Changying reined in his horse, glanced back at the group of madmen still reveling over the wagon, and looked at them with icy eyes.

"As the boss said, 'A merciful person cannot command an army, and a righteous person cannot manage wealth.' These people are already mad dogs. If we don't sell to them, they will rob, kill, and even smash their own pots and pans to smelt iron. Selling them inferior goods is saving more innocent people."

"Moreover..." Zhao Changying touched the "defense map" she had just extracted from the one-eyed man in her arms. It was the real mission Lu Yan had assigned her. "Compared to these scrap metal, this thing is priceless."

……

Three days later, in Jinan Prefecture, in the secret underground chamber of Lu Ji's camp.

Lu Yan sat in front of the huge sand table, holding the intelligence brought back by Zhao Changying and the latest secret report sent back by "Groundhog" from Yanzhou Prefecture.

On the sand table, the once peaceful map of Shandong is now covered with small black flags representing danger.

Yuncheng, Juye, Tengxian, Zouxian...

These small black flags, like black venomous snakes, are silently spreading along the tributaries of the Grand Canal toward the vital passageway.

"The situation is more serious than expected."

Lu Yan planted a black flag in the location of "Qufu", which was the old stronghold of the Duke Yansheng and the hometown of the sage.

"Groundhog reports that the Fragrance Cult's infiltration speed is astonishing. Not only refugees, but also many low-ranking military households in the garrisons, and even some unsuccessful scholars, have joined them. They have even set up a 'branch altar' in Qufu, claiming that 'Confucius and Mencius will return to their positions, and Maitreya will rule the heavens.'"

Standing to the side, Hu Jingshui listened with trepidation: "Master, this is too arrogant! They dare to touch even Confucius? If this escalates, it will be a catastrophe!"

"Madmen never use logic."

Lu Yan narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze sweeping over the sand table as if he were examining an engineering drawing with serious structural cracks.

"Old Hu, look at the distribution of these strongholds." Lu Yan drew an arc on the sand table with his pointer. "They avoided the heavily guarded Jinan and Dengzhou-Laizhou areas, focusing instead on the deep mountains and lakes of southwestern Shandong. This is a typical example of taking advantage of the complex terrain and weak government control to accumulate strength."

"Moreover, they are conducting pre-war mobilization."

Lu Yan pointed to the huge sum of gold and silver deposited in the ledger, "Most of this money was obtained by believers selling their property, even their children. Xu Hongru is conducting the final 'mobilization.' This means that their accounts are exhausted, and they must plunder to maintain the organization's operation."

"Once a large organization begins to survive through internal plunder, it is not far from the point where it will erupt outwards."

"Boss, what should we do?" Zhao Changying asked. "Continue selling them brittle iron?"

"Sell. And we need to intensify our efforts."

A cold, calculating glint flashed in Lu Yan's eyes. "We'll give them as much as they want. We'll get rid of all the stockpiled low-quality coal and moldy grain in the warehouse. But this is only the first step."

He turned around and looked at the more detailed "Map of Jinan Prefecture's Defense Fortifications" on the wall.

"The second step is 'scorched earth'."

"Pass down the order: starting tomorrow, all of Lu Ji's outer outposts, except for the essential intelligence points, must be reduced in size. Fortified villages must be built in the Zhangqiu mining area to store sufficient food and water. All the families of the core craftsmen must be brought to live in the main camp."

"We need to start deleveraging our overseas businesses. We'll sell the fixed assets that we can't take with us, and mortgage the rest to those greedy gentry. We need to raise funds to stockpile grain, gunpowder, and steel."

"Master, is a major battle about to break out?" Hu Jingshui's hands trembled slightly.

"It's not that we want to fight."

Lu Yan walked to the window and looked at the gray sky outside. Although it was already December, the air was filled with a suffocating heat, a heat wave of restless hearts.

"The sky is falling."

"Based on my model, the powder keg will explode by next summer at the latest, when the shortage of food reaches its peak."

"And we must turn ourselves into an unbreakable rock before the explosion."

Lu Yan turned around, his gaze sharp: "Old Hu, how much silver is left in the accounts?"

"Back to the master, including what I just earned from those rebels, there are still 28,000 taels left."

"Spend it all."

Lu Yan made a startling statement: "Leave not a single bit. Replace it all with saltpeter, sulfur, refined iron, and grain. I want to fill the underground warehouses of this entire camp."

"Also, Changying."

"exist."

"Notify Zhao Tie. His three-shift system isn't enough. I need four-shift system. The machines will keep running even when the people stop. Those three hundred flintlock muskets are the minimum; I also need ten field guns. Even if you have to melt down those large bells, you have to build them for me."

"A storm is brewing, and the wind fills the tower."

Lu Yan sighed softly, but his eyes burned with a fierce ambition.

"But if the rain gets really heavy, it will be a good way to cleanse this murky world. When the flood recedes, the one standing the highest will be the new king."

That night, Jinan was still filled with singing and dancing. The wealthy and powerful were still enjoying the snow and drinking wine in Lixia Pavilion, mocking that "foolish scholar" for exchanging good silver for piles of stinking scrap iron and gunpowder.

Meanwhile, underground in the rocky hills, Lu Ji's war machine had quietly shifted to its highest gear, preparing for the final sprint of the impending apocalyptic storm.